Guilt: The Debt Made From Mistakes (and How to Pay It Off)
by Skillzys
Summary: Judy Fabray has a lot to feel guilt over. Most of it just happens to stem from her youngest daughter. A short one-shot about how Quinn and her mother could have been handled if they had more screen time during seasons 2 and 3.


**A/N:** This is just a fic that shows how the relationship between Quinn and her mom could have gone post season one. Heavily implies that Quinn has feelings for Rachel.**  
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Guilt is a funny thing, you decide. It claws at your insides and weighs down every thought. It shadows you at work and in the grocery store, occupies the empty side of your bed. It steals your appetite and chases away sleep. It makes you see what the rest of your mind has been trying to hide. Like the faint red stains on the collar of his shirt or how his clothes smell like a cheap, off-brand laundry soap instead of the top-dollar detergent in your laundry room. It makes you come home early to confirm your suspicions. And when you find him with some tattooed freak in _your _bed, the guilt only gets heavier.

This is the man you chose over your daughter. He made her leave and you did nothing to stop it. You stood by and watched as your youngest daughter—your baby girl—was kicked out of her home by your husband. And now he's screwing a tattooed floozy in your bed, under your blankets, on your mattress. You don't give him the satisfaction of finishing his _business meeting _before you chase him and his tramp out of the house. And when you curl up on the couch with a bottle of wine, the house doesn't feel any less empty and your daughter isn't any less gone, but the wine does help you forget for the night.

Your guilt doesn't go away when she forgives you; or when you bring her home from the hospital. It still claws at your stomach. It still fills the empty side of your new bed. It still hangs between the two of you and makes your relationship a quiet one, both of you afraid of saying something that would tear the frayed bond you've only just started to repair. It's this fear and guilt that makes you more accepting of her life and her decisions.

When she comes home from New York with her hair chopped off, you know she expects you to snap at her for making such an impulsive decision. You know she has a speech prepared to explain how it can always grow back. And you know she's surprised when you smile and say it looks good on her. It's a little more difficult to accept the pink hair and the nose ring, but you grit your teeth and assure her she's old enough to do whatever she likes with her body. The tattoo she shows you just before her senior year begins nearly sends you on a rant—memories of the tattooed woman still in the back of your mind—but when she laughs and tells you it's only temporary, you swallow the words on the tip of your tongue and smile back.

You still don't think your relationship is as strong as it used to be. You know she's hiding something from you. Of course, she hid a lot of things from you before the baby, so maybe the relationship wasn't strong to begin with. Maybe it wasn't the pregnancy debacle that made the two of you so distant. And if she won't tell you what is on her mind now, maybe she never will. But you do your best to show her that she _can_tell you; that you can handle whatever it is she's hiding. When she invites the young lady with the large nose and love of show-tunes to dinner over Christmas break, however, you see the way she stares at her and you question your ability to accept everything about your daughter.

Is guilt alone enough to accept your daughter's feelings for another girl? Probably not, but you've lost her once already. You refuse to let it happen again. All you need is a little time to wrap your head around the idea and maybe another bottle of wine.

You don't ask her about it. Instead, you wait for her to be secure enough to tell you herself, but you know that moment may never come. Your chest aches each night you come home to find her laying on her bed, looking at the ceiling, or whenever you catch her staring at a pink headband you know isn't hers. And you can't say anything to help because she refuses to tell you what you already figured out.

On the one hand, it hurts that she doesn't trust you enough to talk about it. On the other, you're scared of how you'll react if she does. It has been hard enough admitting to yourself that your daughter could be a little on the gay side, but until she confirms your suspicions, it's only speculative. You can handle speculation. It's the confirmation that always kills you in the end.

Still, you're starting to wish she _would_tell you just so you could do more for her, especially when she informs you the girl you've dubbed as 'Nosey' insists on getting married to your daughter's ex. But she hasn't so much as hinted towards it, so all you can do is pat her shoulder and agree that he is an idiot and Nosey deserves to spend the rest of her life with someone better.

You couldn't care less about the idiotic marriage when your daughter gets in an accident on her way to the wedding.

The guilt comes back full force as you sit at your daughter's bedside and hold her pale hand. Her two friends—those damn girls who used to terrorize your house every weekend—visit as well, snuggled together on a small chair while they watch your daughter for any sign of movement. Sometimes you look up from her hand and see them comforting one another and you wish you had someone there to comfort you and say your daughter will be okay. When she still hasn't woken up by the end of the day, the two girls wrap you in a hug and ask if they can stay with you.

Later, amongst the beeping of the machines and the soft breaths of the two Cheerios asleep in the cramped chairs, you finally let yourself cry. You can't lose her again, whether it's to an accident or your own conflicting views about who she loves.

When hazy green eyes flutter open in the middle of the night, you want to wrap your arms around her and make sure she is really there, but the tubes are in the way and there's a risk of hurting her more. You settle for leaning forward and kissing the only part of her temple that isn't covered by a bandage. Her eyes are wide when you pull away and you start to think maybe you didn't show her enough affection when she was younger. You plan to fix that as soon as you can. In fact, you plan to do a lot of things, and you start by telling her you know.

Maybe it's a little late to be having this talk, but you need her to know she's still your daughter and always will be, even if she loves a girl. And you need to know that she can forgive you for not saying anything sooner. When she lightly squeezes your hand, the guilt slips off your shoulders for the first time in years. You know you're both going to be okay. Despite everything that's happened and the times you've failed her, she still considers you her mom.

And she's still your Quinnie.


End file.
